Insanity
by Emi Lillian Kitsune
Summary: Voldemort has gone officially crazy and has a few new plans on how to take over the world. Snape takes on the Weasley twins and many, many toddlers. Yes, I know, another deaging fic, but I tried to make it interesting.
1. Chapter 1: The Trouble Begins

Chapter One – The Trouble Begins

(Note: set at the beginning of 6th year)

"But if Voldemort –"

"Don't say his name!"

Harry glared at the table of hardened Order members who now looked about to bolt. "If You-Know-Who has finally gone completely crazy, that's a good thing, right?"

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked over them at his little Chosen One, "With anyone else it would be, but the Dark Lord still has significant magical powers and evil tendencies. According to our informant," He inclined his head courteously at Snape, "In the one day after his break with sanity, Lord Voldemort killed ten death eaters, redecorated the Riddle family home in hot pink, changed the initiation rite from the killing of muggles to the dancing of the can-can, and proposed marriage to Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry raised his eyebrows, then snorted at the idea of Snape witnessing all this. _Dancing the can-can…_

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, we will go back to school, of course, and hope for the best!" Dumbledore beamed across the table at him. "Just make sure you're on your guard. Now – who wants cookies?"

There was a loud lot of chatter at the Welcoming Feast, as per usual. Harry had immediately told Ron and Hermione about Voldemort's insanity, which had led to several heated conversations.

"Oh, come on, Hermione." Ron snorted. "How dangerous can someone who redecorates their house in hot pink be?"

"I think you're underestimating him, Ron!" Hermione replied heatedly, "Voldemort – oh, get a hold of yourself and say the name already – is still dangerous. His killings haven't stopped, just gotten more creative."

"No kidding," agreed Harry without looking up from his newspaper, "It says here that Voldemort killed his last victims by setting a horde of starving, carnivorous giraffes loose on them."

"Giraffes are carnivourous?" Fred asked with interest, plopping his books down beside Ron.

"A new tribe, apparently," Harry responded idly, "Oh, look, Skeeter's written another article about Scrimgeour's scandalous love life – what'd you let her out for, Hermione?"

Before she could respond, a high, cold voice spoke, seemingly from out of the walls. First years squealed and hid under tables while Professor Slughorn clutched at Professor Snape, who promptly swept out his wand and only refrained from committing a murder because Dumbledore sent him a quelling glance.

"Students and teachers of Hogwarts! You know there is no way for my dark and delicious magical powers to penetrate your elegantly carved walls, but un-Dark curses have no such restrictions. So… I have finally found a way to defeat you all!" At this point, Professor Snape got to his feet and left the hall, rolling his eyes and muttering about lunatics. Fred and George, at seeing his lone exit, gave identical evil grins and slunk out after him.

"Prepare yourselves… by this time tomorrow, nothing at all will be left of your current selves!"

There was a great silence, and a sweeping wind filled the hall. When it was left, everything was silent for a few moments, until a lone wail pierced the air. Like the spark to tinder, that wail ignited the great hall into a horrendous cacophany as babies poured out from every which where.


	2. Chapter 2: And the babysitters are

Chapter Two: And the lucky babysitters are…

"You little brats! I will chop you up and use you in a potion to poison your family!"

Severus chased the twins into the entrance hall, covered in a slimy green goo. However, just a few steps in, he froze, desperate thoughts stumbling over each other in his mind.

This couldn't be possible! He couldn't deal with children! What had happened? Voldemort – but what if it was permanent –

The cries and wails were interfering with his concentration. Severus growled out a jinx, and the hall froze. The two redheads turned to look at him, faces in a mask of horror.

"Professor…?"

Severus's brain snapped back in focus. This was what he was good at – improvising a solution in the riskiest and most impossible of situations. He would solve this, then turn in his resignation to Voldemort and give the twins enough detention to last them until the end of their school career. With a flick of his wand, a large blackboard appeared at the end of the hall, listing each of the student and teachers' names.

"Weasleys, collect the students," he ordered tersely. They apparently sensed he was not in a mood to be reckoned with, and obediently went to do as he said. Meanwhile, Severus conjured an enormous black (of course) playpen, and after a moment's thought added a few decorative pillows and several boxes of toys. That taken care of, he turned back to the deplorable pranksters. They each had an armload of toddlers and were lugging them over. As each child dropped into the pen, their name disappeared from the board. Severus thought for a moment – the lists of student contact information were in Minerva's office. Of course, the muggleborns would have to stay, but he could dump the pure- and half- bloods onto their parents. That settled, he went to dig up the lists.

"What happened?" George hissed to Fred in an undertone as they passed.

"Bet it was Voldemort – heard he went crazy."

"Now is not the time for cozy conversations."

The boys leapt apart as though lit on fire and hurriedly began collecting children once more as Severus stalked into the hall, clutching several long sheets of parchment. With a flick of his wand, multicolored lights floated over each toddler's head.

"Those lights indicate a person's blood status," he informed the twins sharply. "Bring all those with at least one magical parent over to the fireplace, and leave the rest be. Am I understood, or will a field trip to the bottom of the Black Lake be in order?"

"Understood, sir," Fred said smartly, ideas already whirling through his head about how to transfigure the Potion Master's bed into a portal to the bottom of the Black Lake.

As the twins carried each child over, Severus sought out their names on the sheets and Floo-called their parents. Naturally, there were a few reluctant ones, but subtly veiled threats took care of all that. Three hours later, Severus wiped his sweaty brow and turned to the remainder of the students.

"How many, Weasley?" he asked the closest twin. The red-haired terror did a quick head count.

"Fifty-six, sir."

"You know, I feel bad for mum," the other twin commented, walking over, "Ginny and Ron at the same time… and both of them were nearly as bad as us!"

"I doubt any could achieve that status, Mr. Weasley," said Severus dryly, "For the rest…" He thought very hard for a moment. Yes, the parents, muggle or not, would have to take them, or at least most. There was absolutely no way on heaven or earth that the greasy Potion's Master and the two most infamous pranksters since the Marauders could care for fifty-six children. "The parents can take them, I suppose. Bring them over."

Another very long hour later (the most common reaction to seeing a head appear in their fireplace had been, "What the hell?" followed closely by screaming and attempts at murder) only three were left: the former Professor Minerva McGonagall, who was in that uncomfortable window in which your parents and siblings are in no state to care for you and your grandchildren are as yet incapable; Hermione Granger, whose parents were on vacation in Uzbekistan; and Harry Potter, whose relatives had not yet been contacted. Severus groaned mentally and once more stuck his head into the fire.

"Dursley residence." Of course, normally muggle houses weren't connected to the Floo network, but Hogwarts, due to the number of emergencies that occurred within its walls, had the ability to Floo any fireplace that had a grate to burn in. A moment later, Severus' head was smashed against a wooden barrier. "Pestering muggles," he growled, and blasted the wall.

"What in the -!" A portly man scurried away from the recently freed fireplace, face rapidly turning purple. "Petunia!" he yelled, "It's some of _his lot!_"

"What is it, Vernon… oh!" The skinny, nasty girl Severus remembered from his younger days had not sweetened in the years that had separated them. "What are you doing in my fireplace?" she screamed.

"Your nephew, Harry Potter, has been accidentally deaged," Severus recited brusquely, holding the toddler out of the flames and placing himself in a decidedly uncomfortable position, "You must care for him until a cure has been found."

"What?" The man's face had eclipsed red and was going rapidly to purple. "Take back that freak? It was bad enough the first time! You can keep your own snotty kids, and don't be burdening us again!"

"He was nothing but a burden!" Petunia shrilled, "An ungrateful, useless little snot who should have died along with his wretched parents."

Fred, watching Severus' hand come out of the fireplace to clench his wand, smirked and said to George, "Think we should've warned him?"

"Nah," his twin said, also grinning wickedly, "He wouldn't have believed us anyway and now the Dursleys are getting a bit of what they deserve."

A moment later, Severus' livid, ash-encrusted face withdrew out of the fireplace and he stood, still holding the toddler Harry in his arms.

"We are keeping him," he growled, "The muggles are unable to care for him."

Dumping the boy rudely in George's arms, he stalked over to a long window and attempted to wipe the ash of his face. Phrases kept running through his mind… _Take back that freak?… Nothing but a burden… Should have died with his useless parents…_ Indeed, he had seen Potter's memories, but he tried his hardest not to concentrate on what he was seeing in the brat's mind. Surely his relatives showed more care for him than this? Yes… this must have been their reaction to some prank the brat had pulled on them. Severus turned around reluctantly.

"We should Re-Mobilize them," he said in a resigned, desperate tone of voice that best fitted a man going to the gallows, "It is, after all, ten o'clock, and I'm sure they'll be tired enough to sleep."

"Okay."

Fred and George squared their shoulders, and gloomily recited the counter curse.


End file.
